


Happy Birthday

by Iconic_Name_I_Hope



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Background characters - Freeform, Birthdays, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, angsty, but something went wrong, it was going to be fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21794059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iconic_Name_I_Hope/pseuds/Iconic_Name_I_Hope
Summary: Thomas is sad and can’t remember his birthday so Minho decides to help.
Relationships: Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Kudos: 36





	Happy Birthday

Thick grey clouds covered the stars and the moon that night, and the air tasted heavy. Thomas didn’t know how long he’d been laying on the dark beach when Minho finally flopped down beside him. One glance at Minho was enough to tell him that the older boy had just as much on his mind as Thomas did. 

“Long day?” Minho asked Thomas quietly, facing up towards the stormy sky. 

“It was,” Thomas responded, sitting up and squinting out at the waves. “I’m sore.” 

He was. Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he’d worked so hard. 

“What were you doing today?” 

“Helping Gally build houses.” 

“No wonder you’re sore, then,” Minho said, grimacing. “Maybe you’ll get a roof over all our heads before this shuck storm comes in.” 

Thomas groaned. “At this pace, we’ll have several rooves up by tomorrow, so long as the storm doesn’t break tonight.”

“You better pray to whatever shanky island gods are out there, then,” Minho snickered. 

Thomas sat and Minho lay there for a long while, listening to the rhythmatic waves pull back and forth, smelling the saltly spray whenever it flew up from a sheet of crashing water. They couldn’t see a thing out towards the ocean, but the sand lit up in a ghostly sort of way and Thomas was able to pick out a line of familiar rocks nearby. 

“I wonder if I was religious,” Thomas pondered aloud. It bothered him sometimes, all of the not knowing. What if he had been? What if that had been one of the things that had made up his personality? 

Minho stole a glance at his younger friend and sat up, perhaps sensing that he was thinking about Those Things again, the things that the Gladers usually pushed aside and tried not to think about. 

“Do you feel like you were religious?” The Asian boy asked softly. 

Thomas furrowed his brow. “I don’t,” he said, “But I’m not sure I’d remember if I was.” 

“Well then, I wouldn’t stress it. Maybe you can try praising something and see if it feels familiar. If you’re looking for a god, I happen to know one.” Minho smirked at Thomas and Thomas smacked him gently on the arm. 

“You’re the farthest thing from holy,” the younger boy said, but there was no spite in his tone. 

“I don’t know what to do with that information,” Minho replied, laying back down with a grin on his face. 

They sat in silence for another long while, Thomas staring out at the ocean and Minho laying back on the sand with his eyes closed. Thomas could feel himself growing drowsy, but another thing was bothering him. 

“Minho, what about birthdays? That’s a big thing for just about everyone, and I think I’d remember.” Thomas sighed. 

Minho opened his eyes and sat up again. “I like to think that we don’t have birthdays anymore, and that we’ll live forever, from whatever age we are now.” He waved his hands towards the hidden stars dramatically and flashed his friend a smile. 

Thomas laughed quietly, his eyes cast down. “That’d be nice,” he said in a small voice. 

“It would,” Minho agreed. “Unfortunately, that is apparently not how life works. You’ve got wrinkles already.” 

Thomas’ hands shot up to his face, feeling around his eyes and forehead. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “I do.” 

That was new. Wrinkles. He wasn’t that old, right? Probably seventeen or eighteen. If this were the world before, if it still mattered, Thomas could be a legal adult. 

“You’re starting to look like some shanky old man who sits on the beach alone.” Minho snickered. 

“I’m not alone.” Thomas looked over at the older boy. “I’ve got you with me. On the beach.” 

It sounded a little sappy, he knew, but he didn’t know how else to convey his appreciation to his friend in a way Minho would actually understand. 

Minho didn’t say anything, though. 

“I don’t know, man,” Thomas began rambling. “I just wish I knew when my birthday was. And yours. And Newt’s.” 

His voice had begun to hitch as he said those last words, and he could feel his eyes filling with tears that had nothing to do with the wind. 

Minho didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with the way Thomas spoke. The older boy stared off towards the ocean stoically, lost in his own world. 

“I’m going to bed,” Thomas said, standing up. His relaxing night on the beach with Minho had been anything but, and trying to sleep his problems away felt like the most probable option. 

Minho stood up too and gave Thomas a quick pat on the back. “Good night.” 

Thomas pulled Minho in for a quick hug, then turned on his heel and made his way up a sandy slope. 

||-O-|| 

The next morning was a blur. Gally shook Thomas awake, and the next thing he knew, he was eating Frypan’s pancakes while the dark boy chattered about how good the sun felt this early. 

Then a stack of wood and a length of fraying rope were thrust into his hands and he was forced along a precarious trail towards whatever new thing Gally had then slaving over. 

Four hours later, when the wind was finally welcome and the leaves had shaken all of their moisture away, Thomas sat down, sweaty. They’d roofed three houses and thrown up another hut in the time it took the sun to reach its peak. He had his water and food now, though. 

Thomas took a long, shaky sip of water, panting and trying to coax the ache from his arms by stretching them oddly. 

“Tired already, Greenie?” Gally asked, sitting in the dirt opposite him. The older boy was sweaty, but he didn’t move like he felt any sort of pain anywhere, which made Thomas feel worse. 

“I’m not really used to this type of work yet,” Thomas admitted, picking through his food and starting to eat quickly. 

“Fair enough,” Gally said, shrugging. He began to eat his lunch too, although much slower than Thomas ate his own. 

“How many more houses do we have left?”  
Thomas felt a wave of hope rise carefully in his stomach. Maybe it’d be two, or four, or at least some one-digit number. 

“Don’t ask me that,” Gally said sternly, standing up. “I’ll tell you when we’re on the last one.” 

Thomas groaned. 

||-O-||

When the sun finally sank on the western side of the island (“Just like a coastal sunset, maybe I can figure out where we are,” Jorge had said hopefully) they had put a roof on fifteen houses. It wasn’t much, but it was that many more people who would be dry when the storm hit. 

The islanders had set up a bonfire that night and Frypan (with the help of other experienced cooks) had made something like a feast. Thomas had never been so happy to see food. 

Minho came and found him while everyone was eating, and his eyes were sparkling. “I have a surprise for you,” he said excitedly. 

Thomas looked up from his food, scooting over to make room for Minho to sit down. “What’s that?” 

Minho sat down quickly, picking a few things from Thomas’ plate to eat. “I’ve got you a birthday.” 

“What?” 

“Well, I talked with pretty much everyone today, trying to find a day that wasn’t really important to anyone.” Minho paused to take a bite of bread. “I made it our birthday. Mine, yours, Gally’s, everyone who can’t remember. And I told the people we care about, so that we’ll have something to celebrate.” 

Thomas stared at Minho for a moment. “You made us a birthday?” 

“Yeah!” Minho said. 

“Was it because of what I said last night on the beach?” 

“It was. You’re sad, man. I’m your best friend, so I’ve got to help you with that.” Minho gave Thomas a slightly awkward one-armed hug. 

Thomas threw his own arm around Minho’s shoulders, grinning. “That’s really cool,” he said. 

“How old do you think you are?” Minho asked. 

Thomas pondered for a moment. “Probably around seventeen,” he told the older boy. 

Minho laughed. “You’ll be eighteen tomorrow, then. And I’ll be twenty.” 

Thomas stared at Minho. “Twenty? You’re old.” 

They both watched the fire for a while, finishing Thomas’ food. As people finished eating and began to leave, Thomas turned to the other Runner. 

“I’m a little tired,” he said. Minho took his gaze away from the flames and met his friend’s eyes. 

“Did Gally work you hard again?” Minho asked. 

“Nah, the shank’s just weak,” Gally retorted, sitting down on Thomas’ other side. He ruffled Thomas’ hair and grinned. “Thanks for the birthday, Minho.”

“I didn’t exactly have you in mind when I had the idea,” Minho said. 

Thomas shook Gally and Minho off his shoulders. 

“It’s always about little Tommy boy, isn’t it?” Gally joked. 

“Usually,” Minho agreed. Thomas stared at Minho again and gave him another hug. He felt the older boy squeeze him back and it made him feel warm. 

Thomas moved a bit closer to Minho, wondering why only four of them had lived out of their group. It made him really sad, but he was sitting by a fire in Minho’s arms, where he’d wanted to be as long as he could remember, and he knew that everything would be okay. 

It hit midnight an hour later and the three of them still sat there. Thomas had fallen asleep just before, and in his dreams stood Newt, Teresa, Chuck, Alby, and everyone else who hadn’t made it, wishing him a happy birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> This took wayyyy to long to post and I’m sorry. I wrote it in 2018 and I had fo fix the style to my current one.


End file.
